


Five Porny Ficlets!

by rabidchild67



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Breathplay, Clothing Kink, Dialogue-Only, Epistolary, Fingerfucking, Hand Kink, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, We didn't die let's screw trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 10:03:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidchild67/pseuds/rabidchild67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the 5th Day of Christmas, my True Love would absolutely give me five porny K/S ficlets! Better than gold rings! My Happy Trekmas Fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Porny Ficlets!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marlee813](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marlee813/gifts).



> These are not necessarily all the same iteration of these characters – it’s just a lot of random smut and/or shenanigans. And for some reason, all the titles are from R.E.M. songs, though they don’t relate to those songs’ content.

**Just a Touch**

Spock’s hands.

They’re an obsession, really, and Jim has never been able to get enough of them. Even before they got together, he’d been fascinated by the way they moved – fingers long and graceful, palms square, large and solid; the way they flew over the controls at the Science station in times of crisis, or drew his phaser, lightning-quick, at the first sign of danger on an Away mission. Now that they’ve begun a relationship, he can’t get enough of them, their warmth on his body, simultaneously strong and gentle as they hold him. 

The day Spock introduces him to the Vulcan way of kissing, Jim is utterly charmed by its simplicity – to him it seems almost sublimely civilized and he tells Spock this. Spock looks away, lips quirking as if enjoying a private joke. Jim doesn’t say anything – he figures he’ll learn as they go.

Eventually, Spock tells him that Vulcan fingers are a sensitive erogenous zone, and though Jim doesn’t have any reason to think it an exaggeration, he doesn’t quite believe it either. Not until today.

Today, they lie in Jim’s bed, Spock half naked and Jim entirely so, enjoying each other. Jim is sprawled half on top of Spock, his own fingers toying with the hairs on his lover’s chest as they kiss. Spock’s hands run up and down Jim’s back and finally pause on his buttocks, kneading the firm flesh and eventually spreading them apart. When his finger tip brushes against Jim’s asshole, Jim gasps. Spock’s touch is simultaneously sure yet feather-light and Jim’s brain can’t quite process it. He pauses and pulls back from kissing Spock, eyes closed, and just _feels it_. He moans, low in his throat, and spreads his legs. 

“I take it you find that enjoyable?” Spock murmurs into his throat.

“God, yes.” 

Jim has wanted this for a long time, and while he and Spock have fooled around quite a lot – and Spock gave perhaps the best head in the known galaxy – they have not yet seemed to get around to penetrative sex. 

“Want you inside me so bad, lover.” Jim writhes a little on top of Spock, can feel his XO’s answering hardness against his own thigh as he does, but if they keep this up, he’s never going to get what he wants, so he rolls off of Spock to snag a small bottle of lube from the bedside table. He begins to kiss Spock again when he returns, pressing the lube into his hand. They kiss another minute, but taking the hint, Spock pulls away, positioning Jim on his back and squirting a judicious amount of lube onto his fingers. Jim spreads his legs wide as Spock settles on his elbow beside him, and they begin kissing again as Spock’s right hand works its way around Jim’s inner thigh.

Spock’s touch at Jim’s pucker is, at first, tentative, pressing his fingertips against it but not quite entering him. He prods around the edges, pressing lightly, as if learning the contours. The tease of it is heavenly, but slightly frustrating too, causing Jim to whine a little in his throat until Spock finally pushes his middle finger in to the first knuckle, Jim’s sphincter closing around it tightly. He gasps in surprise at being breached finally, turns it into a smile and a nip of Spock’s lower lip. 

Spock’s thumb is now caressing the edges of Jim’s hole even as his finger is delving deeper. Spock twists his wrist slightly and crooks the finger inside Jim, pulling it out and pushing it in, a little farther each time. Jim feels the muscle relax minutely, but soon, Spock introduces a second, and now two fingers are pressed against Jim’s hole. As before, he toys at the entry before breaching it, petting lightly, almost tickling. 

“Are you trying to kill me with kindness, then?” he asks and Spock smirks, and then there are two fingertips inside. 

Jim gasps at the stretch, because while Spock’s fingers are long and graceful, they are still a man’s, and it has been a while since Jim has had anything in his ass besides his own middle finger during the occasional wank session. He holds his breath for a second, savoring the burn of it. He bears down, easing Spock’s way, and eventually, Spock’s first two fingers are completely inside him.

The pressure of them inside is a delicious precursor of what is to be, and Jim takes a moment to savor it. Spock’s fingers undulate inside him, opening him a bit more with each movement. Jim can almost feel the beating of his heart against them where they are being squeezed by his flesh. Spock crooks his elbow, and they are inside him even further, his fingertips brushing along Jim’s prostate for one brief second before retreating again. Jim moans and bucks a little, the sensation perhaps a little too much. Before he can decide whether or not that’s true, Spock’s fingers find the spot again and press against it harder. Jim cries out, his entire body clenching, and Spock, unexpectedly, does the same, his voice drowning out Jim’s.

Spock’s hand inside him stills, and he closes his eyes; Jim notices he’s also holding his breath. Jim presses a hand against his face, to get his attention, and he leans into it but doesn’t open his eyes right away. Instead, he repeats the attention to Jim’s prostate. Jim gasps, and clenches; Spock moans, his back arching as he presses his crotch against Jim’s side. He opens his eyes again and his pupils are so wide Jim wonders if he can even see. 

“Spock?”

“I –“

Again, Spock moves his fingers inside Jim, and again Jim clamps down. Spock’s hand inside Jim stills as he throws his head back, his throat working though no sound is coming out. His hips thrust against Jim again, and again, and finally he is shuddering in a way with which Jim is by now well acquainted. He drops his head to Jim’s shoulder, removing his fingers from Jim’s body perhaps a bit too quickly for comfort and resting his hand on Jim’s thigh. His entire body is trembling; Jim can feel the wet warmth of Spock’s cum against his hip as it soaks through his pants.

“Spock?”

“I – I must apologize,” he says, his voice breaking. “This has never happened before.” His ears and cheeks are a deep shade of olive, and he can’t quite look Jim in the eyes. 

Jim kisses him gently. “It happens to us all, I think?” he says, going for supportive boyfriend and hearing condescending douche inside his head. 

“You misunderstand. Do you remember when I explained that Vulcans’ hands are an erogenous zone?”

“Yes.”

“I perhaps understated the degree to which they are.”

“Are you saying you came in your pants just from finger-banging me?”

“The tightness and heat of your body, combined with the overwhelming affection and regard I hold for you proved to be too much,” Spock confirms. 

“I think that’s maybe the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me. Come here.” Jim hauls Spock on top of him and begins to kiss him. “Except next time?” he mutters between kisses. “We maybe use a butt plug or something, you know?”

“That would be logical.”

 

**Try Not to Breathe**

OK, so, that time Spock nearly choked me out on the bridge? I am embarrassed to admit it gave me half a chubby. 

I know, I know, there’s nothing you can say to me I haven’t already thought of. And thankfully, no one there seemed to notice either, since they were so busy being shocked by Spock almost killing me. 

But I’m telling you, the way he threw me around – it was like he barely registered my blows. Can I tell you how big a fucking turn-on that is? I didn’t realize it at the time, but that was the moment I fell for the big, logical lug. 

And the feeling of those strong fingers around my throat? Spank fodder for _months_ , man.

Imagine my surprise when I figured out he had the hots for me too. Well, when he _told me_ he had the hots for me – you try reading more than four emotions into those eyebrows. I’m getting better at it now, though – I’m up to seven.

But it was hard to ask him what I wanted, because – well, how would you feel if your new boyfriend asked you to maybe choke him a little while you’re fucking him? Exactly. He still figured it out, though. Cuz he’s a fucking genius, that’s why. And I suppose I wasn’t exactly subtle…

“Jim, I notice that you have repositioned my hands over your throat yet again.”

“So?”

“I have given it much thought, and I believe I have divined your motive, though it concerns me.”

“It… concerns…” Talk about a douche-chill; my hard-on hadn’t wilted that fast since I was fourteen and my mom walked in on me fucking the central vacuuming system at home in Iowa. Terrific – now he knew exactly how big a freak I really am. “Do you think we could talk about this later?”

“That would be acceptable.” He went back to pounding into my ass, giving his hips that little twist that drives me bananas, and Little Jimmy was soon back online.

“Jim, may we now discuss the matter we tabled earlier?”

The cum was barely cooling on my belly and he wanted to bring it up already? I sighed. “Like a dog with a bone,” I muttered and reached for a moist towelette. “Shoot.”

“As I said, I believe I understand your motivations for such a practice and it concerns me--”

My embarrassment made me irritated, and so I snapped, “Concerns you? Well, Spock, not all of us are as perfect as –“

“I am mindful that a certain finesse must be brought to bear and I confess that, although I would naturally take the utmost care, I would inadvertently injure you in some way,” he interrupted.

“…Sarek’s boy – what did you just say?” I finished and now I felt like a total shit. To be fair, though, he caught me off guard.

“It is a risky practice, and I fear my control of my superior Vulcan strength.”

God, I love this crazy alien. I kissed him in the sloppy way he says he hates but I hope he secretly loves. “Just the fact you’re willing to entertain it is enough, babe,” I added.

“But I believe I may have an alternative, if you are willing to discuss it.”

This got my attention. As well as Little Jimmy’s, but then the red alert went off and there were Klingons and they always ruin all our fun.

\----

“So tell me how it works?”

We’re in my bed, and I’m buck naked and Spock has lifted me into his lap like I weighed less than a small dog, and seriously? So. Damn. Hot. Anyway, he was willing to give the choking-out thing a whirl, but he had a better idea, or so he said.

“The Vulcan nerve pinch works so efficiently not just because it is used to apply precise pressure over the baroreceptors of the carotid sinus at the base of the humanoid neck,” he said, and I’d have already zoned out from all the medical mumbo-jumbo except for the fact that he had my dick in his hand. “It works so effectively when Vulcans administer it because there is a fair degree of psionic energy expended as well, making the risk of adverse effects to the recipient nearly nonexistent.”

“Soooo…” I began, as if I’d drawn a conclusion, but honestly, I hadn’t a clue.

“It is therefore possible for me, in theory, to regulate the application of that psionic energy, slowing down the process and lengthening the period of time it may take for you to be rendered unconscious.”

“I – wow,” was about all I could say, and then we were doing the sloppy kissing thing again. 

When we paused, he looked at me with what I have learned is his indulgent expression, and seriously, get yourself a half-Vulcan lover because you won’t regret it.

The first couple times we tried it, I passed out almost immediately. I was game to keep trying, but those nerve-pinches last a couple hours on me, and it’s an inefficient way to get your rocks off. We took to trying it just before bedtime, because at least the Captain being down for the count at that time of the day wouldn’t usually pose a risk to the ship. The night it finally worked, I of course couldn’t say anything because I practically passed out, but Spock backed it off just enough and I was out of it as soon as he removed his hand, and though I was still a bit dizzy, I considered it progress.

And tonight, we finally got it right. 

Believe me when I tell you it was everything I thought it would be and even more. I’m curled up sideways in his lap, his right arm is around my shoulders, holding me up, and his left hand is wrapped around my dick. He has this way of pressing on the head of my cock as he jacks me, that pushes at the foreskin just a little too much, the pressure a little too hard, and it is guaranteed to get me rock-hard within seconds. I close my eyes, arch my feet back to flex my calf muscles, because that’ll at least delay my coming right the fuck now, but soon enough I know I’m close and I say, rather eloquently, “Now! Spock! Please!” 

I feel his right hand move to the join of my neck and shoulder, his fingers dry and hot as they press down. When the pinch is done this slowly, there is a definite buzz of energy that I feel, or that I imagine I feel, but there’s no arguing with the fact that the effect is nearly instantaneous. My vision begins to white out around the edges, ever so slightly, and I’d go limp and give in to it except for the fact that Spock’s hand on my dick has sped up. My awareness has been reduced to two things – the struggle to remain conscious and the friction against my cock that is quickly approaching pain. I think I make a needful little whine, but I’m unsure if it really came out or not. I stare up at the ceiling, can feel tears leaking from my eyes, and just before I come, his hand slips away from my neck and he’s pulling my face into his throat, murmuring things into my ear that I don’t hear for at least a few seconds, because it takes a few seconds to come around, and I’m coming, coming so hard, harder than I’ve ever done in my life, and it’s splattered across my face and his, and I’m actually sobbing now. I close my eyes, but I don’t pass out, even though I want to, even though sleep at this point would be a blessing, but he’s rocking me in his lap and petting my face with his free hand, and when I finally calm down, I lift my heavy arms and drape them around his neck and hang on like some sort of baby spider monkey and tell him that I love him.

When I wake up later, we’re in pretty much the same position, except he’s eased us onto the pillows and pulled the blankets up over us. He’s awake before I am, and when I stir, he kisses the top of my head. 

“That was the most amazing experience of my life,” I tell him truthfully, looking up at him. His eyes, which had been studying the ceiling, look down and are all soft and indulgent, and it makes me feel so good inside, because I’m the only person in the universe who gets to see that look on his face.

“It pleases me to please you, Jim.”

“I want you to know, that if there’s anything I can do… you know, to repay the favor… I’d totally be up to it.” I bat my lashes at him, because it’s what I do, but I’m surprised as hell at his response. 

“I had hoped you would say that, Jim, because it is a matter to which I have been giving a lot of thought.”

“You have?”

“I was just examining your ceiling and contemplating if it had the structural capacity to support a _zhel’geldaya_.”

“Zelda-what, now?”

“A _zhel’geldaya_. It is a sort of sling that can be suspended from above. It was traditionally used in certain disciplines of the Vulcan martial art _kareel-ifla_ , originally for those who studied to be assassins, but has since been called into common use for more… pleasurable exploits.”

I almost can’t believe my ears. “A sex swing?” The kinky bastard. “You kinky bastard. Come here!”

The kissing is _really sloppy_ this time, because, even though I’ve been told this on numerous occasions, I really am a lucky fucking guy.

 

**Good Advices**

“James Kirk.”

“Uncle Jimmy!”

“Hiya, Joanna! Gosh, kiddo, it’s been an age. Don’t you look all grown up!”

“Aw, you say that every time you see me.”

“Indulge an old man.”

“Forty-two is not old.”

“Well, it _feels_ old. To what do I owe the pleasure of a call from the future valedictorian of the Academy’s Class of ’74, anyway?”

“I… well… er… um…”

“Spit it out, Jo-Jo.” 

“I… wanted a bit of advice, is all.”

“On your curriculum? I thought your dad told me you had your heart set on the Engineering track?”

“No, not that. This is… kind of a personal matter. A _really personal_ matter.”

“Joanna, you’re beginning to freak me out.”

“Iwantsomesexadvice.”

“What?! No way!”

“Uncle Jimmy, please, it’s something only you can help me with!”

“Your father is going to kill me, and you know he’ll be able to make it look like an accident.”

“Please? Pretty please?”

“Do not pout, it won’t work on me – not anymore.”

“…”

“There she goes, with the bottom lip… You should be ashamed of yourself, pulling that face out on an old man. You know I’m helpless to resist it.”

“Thanks, Uncle Jimmy!”

“What did you want to know? And for the record, I am doing this under duress!”

“Well, I have this new boyfriend –“

“Congratulations.”

“… and he’s, well, Syriok’s not like other guys I’ve dated, and –“

“You’re dating a Vulcan?”

“Well, yeah, and so I was hoping you could give me some advice on… getting into his pants.”

“Joanna!!!”

“Don’t look so scandalized, Uncle Jimmy. If even _half_ the things I’ve heard about you around here are true, then you’ve seen your share of action. Besides, you and Uncle Spock are practically married, so –“

“You just figure I’d give up some trade secrets?”

“Well. Yeah.”

“OK. Fine. In the interest of inter-species harmony, I will do this thing. But I’m not going to enjoy it. And I’m not going to look at you either, Jeez!”

“OK, Uncle Jimmy. Shoot!”

“Sweet fancy Moses, she’s got a pen and paper. OK. Well, the first things you should know about are the erogenous zones. Vulcans are, shall we say, more blessed in this area than humans. There are thirty-seven on the male, and forty-five on the female, though I’ve got no firsthand knowledge of that, so don’t even ask. They kiss with their fingers – you know that?”

“Yes.”

“Well, the fingers are also a primary erogenous zone. Suck on his first two fingers and you’ll blow his mind.”

“Wow! Really?”

“Let me tell you, it took weeks for your uncle and I to even get to… never mind. Where were we?”

“Erogenous zones.”

“Right. There are a lot of them – in the usual places you’d expect on a human, but then at practically every pulse point. How they can even function is beyond me, but I guess that’s what that celebrated Vulcan resolve is all about. And all the loose-fitting clothing, come to think of it. Huh… Anyway – back on topic. Have you done anything with him yet?

“Mostly just kissing and groping and stuff. Above the waist.”

“Your father would be relieved to hear it.”

“You’re not gonna tell him, are you?”

“Do I look like I have a death wish?”

“But I wanted to try to take this relationship to the next level, and, well… he’s just so…”

“Uptight? Trust me, that is not the case. Vulcans are just very reserved and well-mannered, and in many ways, it’s still taboo for them to date outside their culture. You will still have to make the first move.”

“Noted. What about oral?”

“Sthplklls;3ji!!! Don’t say such things when I’m drinking coffee, Jo-Jo!”

“Sorry, but you know, it’s important to me.”

“Giving or receiving?”

“Uncle Jimmy!”

“Who’s choking on their beverage now? Clinically speaking, the mechanics are about the same as with a human, or an Andorian, or any bipedal humanoid, really. Just, you know, ease your way into it, and lay off on the teeth, and don’t neglect to play with his balls.”

“Got it. Are Vulcan testicles one of those thirty-seven erogenous zones?”

“No more than for any other species. I’m just talking as a man, in general, on behalf of my gender. Don’t ignore the boys.”

“Uncle Jimmy, I don’t even know how Uncle Spock puts up with you.”

“Sometimes it’s more the other way around. Vulcans are telepathic, you know that?”

“Of course, Uncle Jimmy.”

“Yeah, well, it means that they can not only feel what you’re doing to them, they can feel your feelings about it, you dig?”

“I don’t – I’m not sure what that means.”

“What it means is you’d better be going into this with honest intent, or he will know. So don’t do stuff just because you think he wants it – you should want it too, or he won’t enjoy it. In fact, that’s pretty much a life lesson all the way around, isn’t it? Don’t do anything you don’t want to, like, ever.”

“The More You Know TM?”

“Smart ass. But listen, just because he’s a Vulcan and might seem like the tightest ass in the galaxy, he feels very deeply. Vulcans are the most loving and passionate of any species I’ve yet encountered. They hurt as easily as anyone, so if you’re really serious about him, Jo-Jo, just be careful, because he might be the love of your life and you don’t want to do anything you’ll regret.”

“Uncle Jimmy, are we still talking about me?”

“…”

“That was a long time ago.”

“And I’m lucky I got him back. Just. You know…. You know.”

“I do. Thanks for the advice. You’re a good man.”

“Well, I try to be. Now let me go – I don’t want to be late for dinner or Spock’ll eyebrow at me until I die.”

“Hee-hee! Thanks, Uncle Jimmy! I love you.”

“Love you too, kiddo.”

 

**Talk About the Passion**

He can hear him out there, speaking to Dr. McCoy in a low voice he thinks Spock can’t hear. He’s assuring himself of Spock’s well-being, practically interrogating the other injured members of the Away Team on what exactly happened and how it could have turned into such a “shit show.” Spock predicts that later he will obsessively go over the mission recordings and logs, and all the tricorder readings, to get as complete an idea of what went wrong as he can. And he’ll do all of that without once talking to Spock.

Spock closes his eyes, grits his teeth against the pain in his chest. Soon McCoy is back and they’re wheeling him into surgery, and when Spock finally catches sight of Jim, he’s walking out of the sick bay.

\----

It’s days later before Spock is allowed out of sick bay, and he makes his way, alone, to his quarters to meditate and rest. His injuries were more serious than even he originally thought, and he has been ordered by McCoy to spend the next week convalescing in his quarters. He looks forward to the relative quietude; he’d been visited quite often by his friends and colleagues, who he surmises wanted more to ensure themselves of his mental well-being than his physical. They needn’t have bothered, as it would be illogical for him to allow the deaths of three crewmen on an Away mission to affect his performance, wouldn’t it? 

Jim had not been among them, though.

Spock is lying on his bed atop the covers, with his hands folded on his stomach, attempting to fall asleep, when there is a chime at his door. He orders the computer to open the door; he doesn’t bother asking who it is because he already knows. 

Jim stands in the doorway, a stricken look on his face. Spock struggles to sit up, intending to stand to meet him, but he has crossed the space between them in less than a second and is on his knees before Spock has had a chance to right himself. He lays his head in Spock’s lap and sobs. Spock threads his fingers through the tangled mess of his hair and curls over him, breathing deeply of his scent. He has not, apparently, washed in days. Spock doesn’t care.

Spock puts a hand under Jim’s chin, lifts his face to his and kisses him. Jim rises up on his knees suddenly, hands at Spock’s shoulders with sudden need, desperate, grasping. Spock lies back, dragging Jim with him, whose movements get increasingly agitated until he finally whines, “Please.”

Nodding, Spock begins to fumble with his clothing, Jim raises himself up on his own knees and disrobes, and soon they are again kissing with the kind of urgency they always do at times like these. Spock pushes Jim away, though he leaves his hand on his face as he turns onto his side facing away from him. Jim stretches out behind him, kissing his neck and shoulder as he reaches down to prep Spock. 

“No. Now. Please, Jim,” Spock hears himself saying, his voice rough with want, with need, with… something he won’t name, something borrowed. There is a cold space as Jim leaves him to fetch a condom. When he returns, he is lined up behind Spock, he is kissing the back of Spock’s neck. Spock spreads his legs, feels the tip of Jim’s cock at this hole, sucks in a breath as he is breached. Jim has his arms around Spock, holding onto him desperately, the kisses at his neck becoming bites as he pushes into Spock. 

Spock closes his eyes against the drag and the stretch, tears leaking from his eyes unwanted, whimpering as Jim pushes in a little too fast, too greedy. 

_need this/thought I’d never see you again/god, don’t leave me_

Jim’s emotions bounce around in Spock’s head until they’ve merged with his, until he can no longer discern his own thoughts from Jim’s. He needs this, has needed it since the routine Away mission turned ugly, since a realization that he might never have this again took hold in his gut and never left. Spock reaches behind to grab at Jim’s ass, pulling him in, pulling him tighter. 

_Fill/filled. Possess/possessed. Forget, forget, forget._

_More. Please._

Jim begins to pump into Spock, his movements stuttering, awkward, the lack of prep making Spock too tight for this, too tight for much movement of any kind, but all Spock knows is it’s not enough, can never be enough. It never is enough.

He bows his head, uses his hand tangled in the sheets to press himself backward against Jim, anything for more leverage, more of Jim. Jim rolls them so that Spock is face down, a hand between his shoulder blades, steadying him. At this angle, the movement is easier, if not the result. Spock hisses at the burn; the condom is lubricated, but it is not enough. He doesn’t care. He closes his eyes, and the tears are coming faster, followed, surprisingly, by the emotions that fuel them and he’s no longer sure if they’re his or Jim’s. The sobs are his, though, and he gives up trying to mask them, instead letting the tears soak into the sheets and whimpering, but then Jim is there, his chest pressing into Spock’s back, murmuring, “You’re OK, you’re OK now,” over and over. 

Jim comes moments later, his entire body taut with it. He pulls gently out of Spock, and they collapse into a tangle of limbs on the bed. Jim reaches around to stroke at Spock’s achingly hard cock and Spock hisses and flinches away. He is too hard, too sensitive. “Hey, it’s OK,” Jim assures him, but Spock cannot be touched when he is like this, and he comes against the sheets without a hand on him.

Spock is shaking now, shivering and he can’t stop it, can’t pinpoint the reason for it, either. He’s used to the emotional transference that intimate contact with a human brings, but he’s no longer sure these emotions aren’t his. Jim slides his arms under and turns him, pulls him on top of him, arms tight around his shoulders with his face buried in Spock’s hair. It is a long, long time before either of them speaks.

“Why do we only do this when one of us has nearly died?” Spock asks, finally.

Jim sighs, and Spock feels his thoughts roiling _no/not this/don’t ask me/please_. But he answers, “Because one of us has nearly died.”

“That is not an answer.”

“We have survived, we need to share that with someone. It’s a way of taking comfort, Spock, and giving it.”

Spock sits up and faces Jim. “But I do not think I take comfort in it. I find I want more, Jim. Further, it is my belief that I deserve it, though such a sentiment does seem self-centered to my ears even as I utter it.”

“Spock, you know I can’t.”

“I know nothing of the sort, for we never discuss it. Even so, I cannot have sexual relations with you on these terms. Or will not, which is the more accurate phrase. This grasping for each other only in times of crisis is insufficient to fulfill my needs.”

Jim pauses for several moments. “I don’t think you want a relationship with me, Spock. I’m damaged goods.”

“According to whom?”

“According to everyone. Starfleet shrinks, past relationships, hell even my own family. Abandonment issues, daddy issues – take your pick, I’m a walking fucking cliché.” 

Spock’s eyes rise to Jim’s. He sees the pain and doubt in their blue depths, and so gives what he is about to say careful thought. “Bullshit.”

“What did you say?”

“I apologize – did I fail to use the colloquialism in its proper context? I was given to understand that when a person finds his equivocations discovered and subsequently reacts by deflecting the conversation to irrelevant matters, it was incumbent upon the second party to call ‘bullshit.’ Was I incorrect?”

It is Jim’s turn to sit up. “I can’t believe you.” 

“I furthermore posit that such behavior shows a shameful level of cowardice which I find, frankly, surprising. Are you not the man who risked his life to save the planet Vulcan, who fought Nero and his entire crew off so that I might steal the _Jellyfish_ and destroy the drill that threatened to do the same to Earth?” Spock fights to remain calm, though it is difficult. He reaches out and takes Jim’s hand in both of his. “Are you not the man who loves me, as I love you?” he finishes quietly. 

“I can’t do this Spock.” 

“Because it scares you.”

Jim snatches his hand away, but Spock has already felt the truth of the statement through their connection. “That’s not fair.”

“Tell me what scares you.”

Jim is angry now, his eyes flash. “Why don’t you tell me? You’re the touch telepath!”

“You know I can only sense surface thoughts and emotions. Tell me what about this scares you.”

“Don’t make me tell you. I can’t tell you.”

“Jim, I cannot abide this. If you will not tell me, I can respect that, but I will not go on like this, and must therefore ask you to go now.” He rises from the bed, begins to pick up their clothes and sort through them.

“Losing you,” Jim says, all trace of anger gone. Spock turns back, cocks his head to the side. “I’m afraid of losing you. So part of me – a really big part – figures if I never have you, then I can’t lose you.”

“Jim, that is –“

“Illogical, I know. But every time one of us comes back hurt or is in danger on a mission, it gets to be too much and I just need some reassurance that you’re here with me for a little while longer. That’s why I feel like I can’t be with you, Spock, because if you die, it will end me. I can’t face what me without you looks like.”

Spock is momentarily speechless.

“So there you have it – that’s what scares me. Losing his first officer is what scares the shit out of Jim Kirk. Pretty stupid, huh?”

Spock returns to the bed and sits on his bent leg. He reaches for Jim’s face and makes him look into his eyes. “Most illogical,” he answers and leans forward to kiss him. “But truthful.”

_Finally._

 

**The Worst Joke Ever**

**TO:** Rand.Janice@Starfleet.Enterprise.mil  
 **FROM:** Spock@Starfleet.Enterprise.mil  
 **STARDATE:** 2264.283.0  
 **SUBJECT:** Laundry

Yeoman Rand,

I trust this missive finds you operating at peak efficiency, for although this inquiry pertains to your area, it is only tangential. It is the subject of my laundry: Can you please investigate the means that are employed in its depuration? I fear they may not be ideal for the particular fiber blend I favor, and would know the method of their cleaning.

With kind regards,  
Commander Spock

 

**TO:** Spock Starfleet.Enterprise.mil  
 **FROM:** Rand.Janice@Starfleet.Enterprise.mil  
 **STARDATE:** 2264.283.4  
 **SUBJECT:** RE: Laundry

Hi Commander,

I have consulted with the ship’s laundry and am assured that all officers’ uniforms are cleaned using sonic means, and that there should be no degradation in their fit or quality as a result. Might I ask why you are so suddenly concerned? 

Best,  
Jan

\----

**TO:** Scott.Montgomery@Starfleet.Enterprise.mil  
 **FROM:** Spock@ Starfleet.Enterprise.mil  
 **STARDATE:** 2264.284.8  
 **SUBJECT:** Food replicators

Mr. Scott,

A matter has come to my attention that has caused a modicum of concern. Will you share with me the name of the engineer in charge of maintaining the food replicators on board the ship? I would audit their programming.

With kind regards,  
Commander Spock

 

**TO:** Spock@Starfleet.Enterprise.mil  
 **FROM:** Scott.Montgomery@Starfleet.Enterprise.mil  
 **CC:** Hogue.Paul.T@Starfleet.Enterprise.mil  
 **STARDATE:** 2264.284.9  
 **SUBJECT:** RE: Food replicators

Commander,

Ensign Paul Hogue (copied here) is in charge of all the replicators. May I ask why the sudden interest in their maintenance?

Scotty

 

**TO:** Scott.Montgomery@Sarfleet.Enterprise.mil  
 **FROM:** Spock@Starfleet.Enterprise.mil  
 **CC:** Hogue.Paul.T@Starfleet.Enterprise.mil  
 **STARDATE:** 2264.285.1  
 **SUBJECT:** RE: RE: Food replicators

Mr. Scott,

It has come to my attention that the replicators’ programming may be out of spec and I am attempting to ascertain the cause. This is, of course, of great concern as it may adversely affect the ship’s resource requirements. I look forward to meeting with Ensign Hogue.

With kind regards,  
Commander Spock

 

**TO:** Spock@Starfleet.Enterprise.mil  
 **FROM:** Scott.Montgomery@Starfleet.Enterprise.mil  
 **CC:** Hogue.Paul.T@Starfleet.Enterprise.mil, Kirk.James.T@Starfleet.Enterprise.mil  
 **STARDATE:** 2264.285.3  
 **SUBJECT:** RE: RE: RE: Food replicators

Commander,

I personally just ran an exhaustive series of diagnostics on the entire replicator system not one week ago. Will you share what the out-of-spec issue might be as it is naturally of concern to me and my department.

Scotty

 

**TO:** Scott.Montgomery@Starfleet.Enterprise.mil  
 **FROM:** Spock @ Starfleet.Enterprise.mil  
 **CC:** Hogue.Paul.T@Starfleet.Enterprise.mil, Kirk.James.T@Starfleet.Enterprise.mil  
 **STARDATE:** 2264.285.8  
 **SUBJECT:** RE: RE: RE: RE: Food replicators

Mr. Scott,

There is no call to become defensive. I merely wanted to compare the caloric output of the replicators with their original specs to determine if there are any anomalies. I have since consulted with Ensign Hogue and we have determined there are no discrepancies. I thank you and Ensign Hogue for your assistance with this matter.

With kind regards,  
Commander Spock

\----

**TO:** Quartermaster@Starfleet.Enterprise.mil  
 **FROM:** Spock@Starfleet.Enterprise.mil  
 **STARDATE:** 2264.287.5  
 **SUBJECT:** Additional uniforms

Mr. Omari,

I would like to requisition three additional sets of uniforms for myself, to be delivered as soon as is prudent. I am aware this exceeds my quota for uniforms for the year and will therefore remit payment as soon as you can advise of the approved means for this.

With kind regards,  
Commander Spock

 

**TO:** Quartermaster@Starfleet.Enterprise.mil  
 **FROM:** Spock@Starfleet.Enterprise.mil  
 **STARDATE:** 2264.291.2  
 **SUBJECT:** RE: Additional uniforms  
 **ATT:** [Spock.measurements.pdf]

Mr. Omari,

I do not understand the reason for the discrepancy, but the uniforms you had delivered yesterday were inadequate. I am attaching a copy of my personal measurements in the hopes that you will be able to produce a satisfactory result. Needless to say, the matter is becoming urgent. I look forward to hearing back from you as to the timing of their delivery.

With kind regards,  
Commander Spock

 

**TO:** Quartermaster@Starfleet.Enterprise.mil  
 **FROM:** Spock@Starfleet.Enterprise.mil  
 **STARDATE:** 2264.293.5  
 **SUBJECT:** RE: RE: Additional uniforms

Mr. Omari,

I cannot ascertain a reason that the last two orders of uniforms you delivered were as defective as they were. I can only assume a lack of skill or quality control in your department, which is concerning to say the least.

I will present myself in person at 1430 today so that you yourself may take my measurements. The matter is becoming problematic, to put it mildly.

With kind regards,  
Commander Spock

\----

_~~ ’Fleet Chat ~~_

**BONES** : Jim, you there?  
 **JIMMYT** : Yo! :D  
 **BONES** : Good, cuz it’s time I chewed you out. Can you please stop torturing Spock? He just left here in a huff after demanding a complete physical; said I must’ve gotten everything wrong.  
 **JIMMYT** : You don’t say?  
 **BONES** : I do say. I also say stop it.  
 **JIMMYT** : Buzzkill.  
 **BONES** : Buzz nothing. Either you have all his uniforms taken back out, or I’m telling him.  
 **JIMMYT** : Do you know how much I had to bribe that little shit Evans down in Laundry Services? Not to mention hacking the Quartermaster’s database and Spock’s email? Undetected?  
 **BONES** : That’s irrelevant.  
 **JIMMYT** : What about morale, then?  
 **BONES** : What the hell does this have to do with crew morale?  
 **JIMMYT** : Not the crew’s – mine. You know how much I love watching DAT ASS walk around in tight, Starfleet-issue pants. I swear if he had coins in his pockets I could tell you their planet of origin! UNF!  
 **BONES** : Ew.  
 **JIMMYT** : Jesus, Bones, what I wouldn’t give…  
 **BONES** : Double-ew. Listen, you’re giving the man a complex. Now either you stop it or I’m telling him. And I think we both know what a pissed off Vulcan is capable of.  
 **JIMMYT** : Fine. But give me another week, huh? I’m *thisclose* to convincing him to go to spinning class with me  
 **BONES:** Ah, Jeez.  
 **JIMMYT** : I know! Spock in bike shorts! I can hardly wait!

\----

Thank you for your time.


End file.
